Habit is a second nature, and what was at first pleasure, is next necessity.
We are ourselves our happiness.
Anticipation is a bad sleeping draught.
Strange mystery of our nature, that those in whom genius develops itself in imagination, thus taking its most ethereal form, should yet be the most dependent on the opinions of others!
It merely shews, after all, that affection is a habit.
That which is always within our reach, is always the last thing we take; and the chances are, that what we can do every day, we never do at all.